


Fight back

by babylearnedtoread



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Attraction, BAMF Peter Hale, First Time, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:47:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylearnedtoread/pseuds/babylearnedtoread
Summary: Stiles is sick of being skinny and defenseless Stiles. He wants to be able to fight back. So he turns to someone who understands exactly what he needs.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 38
Kudos: 150





	1. Teach me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris teaches the pack how to fight and Stiles gets distracted by the "assistance".

"Where the hell are you, Stiles?" Scott sounded throw the speaker, the phone lost somewhere on the floor of the Jeep.

"Jesus, Scott, I'm on my way. I don't even get why I have to be there. We all know I'm not the muscle of the pack." 

"Chris wanted you here and everyone keeps coming late today." Scott sighs. "Finally, you're here." The Jeep had just pulled into one of the parking lots across from the building.

"How did you- oh yeah, wolf hearing. I'm coming up. Hold on to your panties a little longer, Scotty." Scott scoffs.

Stiles opens the door of the loft and his eyes meet six other people: Scott, Derek, Chris, Malia, Isaac and Boyd

"The girls aren't with you?" Derek asks frowning.

Stiles looks one more time around the room. "Why would they be?" 

Peter walks down the stairs and sits on the lower ones. "You must ask yourself that often." The older werewolf says smirking.

Stiles rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Before he gets to answer, Lydia, Erica and Kira burst through the door. 

"Sorry, sorry, we're here", Kira says giving her most innocent, apologetical smile. "We went shopping and we got carried away." 

"Figures", Stiles jokes looking at Lydia who throws him a look, biting back a smile. 

Stiles turns his head as casually as he can to look in the direction of the stairs, but he gets startled by Chris' voice. 

"Now that we're all here, can we start? Some of us have other places to be." 

"You can say that again." Peter mutters, loudly enough to be heard, though. 

"You don't need to be here, uncle. You can go back to your more important business." Derek motions air quotes in a sassy way Stiles didn't know he is capable of.

"I asked him to be here for some-" Peter interrupts calmly with "Forced." Chris continues, rolling his eyes "... assistance."

Stiles raises his eyebrow, mirroring Derek's expression, both very confused, but Stiles feels intrigued too somehow.

"We'll start with basic attack techniques, something you may be able to pick up rather fast", Chris starts. "Defence is next as it seems you have no idea what that is and no, getting your arm broken just because it heals is not called defence", he continues looking at Erica who just grins at him and sits more comfortably on the arm of the couch.

"Oh, and no wolf powers today." Everyone groans at that.

Training is, as expected, a disaster so far and it has Stiles rolling on the floor laughing at how ridiculously easy it is for Chris to get every were in the room on the ground.

"This is stupid! Why do we even need to learn how to fight? We have our powers." Scott lifts himself off the ground, frustration clear in his voice. 

"Because you can't always win a fight only with your claws and fangs." Chris explains.

Scott scoffs. "Bullshit, sure we can!"

Stiles hears movement from the stairs and he turns to see Peter getting to his feet and walking towards the center of the room. 

"Come on then. Win this fight with only your claws and fangs and consider me a fan of your theory." Peter's arms are stretched in a "come at me" kind of way and waits with a grin on his face for Scott's confusion to disappear.

It takes a while, but once it does, it takes Scott only a few seconds to throw himself at Peter, clawed hands slashing through Peter's shirt. Stiles leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and eyes wide.

Peter looks down at his shredded shirt, looks back up at Scott with a smirk and takes the piece of clothing off with one swift move. 

Stiles' breath catches and his mouth opens slightly. It feels dry all of a sudden and his whole body starts heating up. 

Peter starts walking around Scott in a circle, allowing Stiles to get a good look at all the defined muscles that covers the man's body and damn if he didn't want to just lick every inch of it.

Stiles' face starts going red at the thought and he'd hope no one noticed, if only Peter wasn't looking directly at him right now, relaxed eyes and the goddamn smirk that is getting Stiles squirming in his seat. 

The fight actually begins this time, Scott attempting to get another slash at Peter who dodges it effortlessly and just as effortlessly he catches the young were's arm, twisting it behind his back and then kicking behind his knees, forcing Scott to fall to the ground. 

Peter let's him go and throws Stiles another look and then turns around in time to punch Scott in the torso before the alpha could hit him. Scott stumbles back groaning, eyes flashing red and jumps right back in the fight, furious and frustrated at the calm demeanor of the other werewolf. 

"Notice how I'm still in my human form, Scott?" Peter's voice doesn't even sound tired, sweat starting however to form on his naked upper half. 

Scott tries to throw a punch at Peter's face to no avail as Peter catches his fist and Stiles swears he can hear the bones in Scott's hand breaking. He winces, but keeps looking. I mean, how could he even look anywhere other than the glistening with sweat, rock built, sculpted by Michelangelo himself and brought on Earth by gods body before him? Seriously, how? 

Stiles got so caught up in his thoughts that he missed the rest of the fight but what he needs to know is that Scott is currently lying on the floor, exhausted and with several bone fractures.

"Lesson learned? Great, I'm done here then." Peter turns on his heels and ignores Chris yelling after him that he is not done for today. He just continues walking and heads upstairs. 

Everyone is standing over Scott, trying to help him up without dislocating anything else. Stiles takes the opportunity to run for the stairs as quietly as he can, without being noticed and called back for help.

He's never been upstairs so he doesn't really know where he's supposed to go, but he hears water turning on so he slips in the room where the sound comes from. 

The room is clean, the bed neatly done, the furniture modern, the bedside table filled with books, as well as the bookshelves. This is definitely Peter's room. Not a room he stays in very often, obviously, because he has his own apartment where he can easily avoid any of the pack members, just like he likes it.

The water's still running while Stiles looks through the books so he doesn't hear when someone walks behind him.

"See something you like?" Peter's voice is low as he leans into Stiles' ear. 

Stiles turns around so fast like he'd just been stung only to be met by more of that god-like body. Peter is standing there with a towel around his waist, all wet, fresh out of the shower, and smug at the speechless Stiles in front of him. "I see you do." The fucker...

He's standing so close to him that Stiles can almost feel the fabric of the towel with his hands close to his own body, frozen from the image before his eyes. 

Peter cocks a brow. " Can I help you?" 

"I-" Stiles clears his throat "That was impressive." Not that Peter needed any more help to boost up his ego. But it really was impressive and it got Stiles thinking, what if...

"Teach me." He blurts out and is a bit taken aback by his aspirations for a moment. Peter, however, doesn't look so surprised. "Sure." 

"Really? I mean, I might be a lost cause." Stiles laughs and Peter remains just as calm and unamused as before. 

"Au contraire, darling. You have potential. You just showed that by asking me this. You want to learn, so I'll teach." Peter turns around and grabs another towel from the bathroom to dry his hair and returns to the room. 

"You- Thanks, I guess." Stiles starts playing with the hem of his plaid shirt, looking down at his feet. 

Peter steps closer again and places his fingers under Stiles' chin, lifting it up. "You are smart and capable and unlike our dear Scott, you don't get cocky. Plus, you are a survivor, Stiles.If fighting is the only way you'll survive, then I know you'll do whatever it takes."

The eye contact already feels like too much. Stiles body is tense and his face is heating up, his eyes are stinging and he's barely breathing. He might be having a panick attack. Stiles wets his lips and catches Peter looking at his lips for a moment before looking back into his eyes. Their bodies get closer and he can feel Peter's bulge brushing against his jeans. 

Stiles gasps and drops his hands on the werewolf's sides, pulling him even closer. Peter's breath is ghosting over his lips and the warmth is inviting him to close his eyes and move forward. 

A knock on the door forces him to open his eyes only to see Peter pulling away and go to the bookshelves, sliding a finger over the covers before pulling one out. 

He knew exactly where to look as he did all this in only a few seconds before telling whoever was at the door to come in and shove the book into Stiles' hands, pushing him gently towards the door.

"Start reading this and meet me here tomorrow at 8 am sharp." Stiles looks down at the cover to read the title and he frowns turning towards Peter. 

"This is in Japanese." 

"Very perceptive, and?" He keeps pushing Stiles out of the room as he speaks. "I can't read Japanese." Stiles explains the obvious as calmly as he can, even though he can feel the exasperation of not being given more time to discuss building up.

"It shouldn't stop you. See you tomorrow, Stiles." 

"He means "see you downstairs, Stiles" because he is not done yet." Chris finally speaks from the hallway where he's been standing since he knocked at the door. "I don't even want to hear it, Peter. You're coming or I'm dragging you." 

"Oh, with the threats..." Peter sigh exaggeratedly. "I'm coming, but as much as you'd like to see me fight in a towel, I'm gonna have to change first." 

"Change your attitude while you're at it", Chris mutters before heading back downstairs. Stiles watches him go and turns around but before he gets to open his mouth, Peter shuts the door in his face. 

"Rude." He clutches the book to his chest, and sighs in...relief? That was so close that he can still feel Peter breathing against his lips, his fingers under his jaw. Wow, that was close..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you'd like me to continue this. 
> 
> If not, it's 4 am and I've been writing this for the past hour and a half, so sorry if it's bad.


	2. Momotarō

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not even sure he will be seeing him tomorrow, not after how close he was today to make a fool of himself. His eyes start to sting and as soon as he closes the door of the Jeep tears start rolling down his cheeks. Fuck damn it...

Stiles doesn't sleep all night, not that he was planning to, but at least now he has something to keep him busy until his 6 am alarm rings. 

He's been reading, or more likely deciphering, the book Peter gave him. He's managed to read the first few pages and he already feels like, by the time he finishes, he might be fluent in Japanese. 

He doesn't really get why he has to read this book because it's done nothing for him yet. He feels like his head might explode from staring at his computer for hours, translating back and forth and he has a weird appetite for sushi. The book doesn't give him any information on combat moves and techniques.

The alarm rings and he gets up with a groan, heading towards the shower. He strips and leaves his clothes carelessly somewhere on the floor, stepping under the hot stream.

He lets the water run over his face as he thinks more about all that he's managed to read last night. Is Peter just making him waste time? Maybe he doesn't even want to train him, he's just playing with him. 

Peter...playing with him...The images from the previous day flood his mind. A shirtless, sweaty Peter smirks at him as he makes his way towards Stiles. 

Stiles drops his hand to his crotch. He wraps one hand around his dick, which twitches in excitement. He places his other hand on the wall in front of him, trying to steady himself and he squeezes his eyes shut, shaky breaths escaping his open mouth.

He can still see Peter approaching him with determination. Stiles' hand starts stroking. Peter stops in front of him, blue eyes staring back at Stiles, pupils dilated with lust and he raises one hand, wrapping it around Stiles' neck fast enough for him not to be able to protest. Not that he would, it's his imagination after all. 

Peter pulls him closer and Stiles' strokes become quicker and more desperate. He can feel the heat building up inside his stomach. He's close. 

Peter squeezes his neck harder and Stiles pants out a moan, coming onto his own hand with a shudder. His orgasm is so intense he almost slips, but he catches himself on the wall in front of him and regains his balance when his legs stop shaking as much.

The water feels too hot now. He realizes he hasn't opened his eyes yet. He blinks a few times, turns the water as cold as it goes and sits there for a few more minutes before turning it off and stepping out of the shower. 

He gets dressed, grabs his laptop and the book and leaves the house in a hurry, not bothering to eat or even check if his dad's still home. He's probably not or he'd have checked on Stiles when he tripped on the stairs on his way out. 

He had to get out, to get away from the place of his sins from this early Saturday morning. And go where? To the place where the demon of his sins awaits him, ready to unconsciously ( or maybe consciously ) torture him? 

"What a fucking masochist you've become, Stiles", he mutters to himself as he fumbles with the keys of the Jeep. 

The loft seems empty when he arrives and he drops himself on the couch with a sigh. Staring at the ceiling gets boring pretty quickly so he decides to open the book and try to do some more reading for whatever reason. 

The door of the loft opens and Peter walks in, paying no attention to Stiles. Stiles thinks for a second he hadn't even noticed him, but Peter starts talking from the open kitchen. 

"Are you hungry?" Stiles opens his mouth and closes it, realizing nothing comes out. He clears his throat and tries again. "Not really." 

"Have you eaten anything today?" Peter raises one questioning eyebrow and continues to look through the fridge until he finds a bottle of water. 

"Yes.", Stiles answers as convincingly as he can. 

"No, you didn't. It's 7:16 and by the looks of it you've been here for a while. Plus, you look like a walking skeleton even more than usual", Peter explains, leaning on the kitchen counter, arms crossed in front of him. 

God bless or curse that tight t-shirt and the way it clings to every muscle on Peter's chest and shoulders. And the way his arms flex are making Stiles' mouth water. He's hungry all right, just not for food. 

He finally speaks, realizing that based on the smug expression on Peter's face he's probably been staring for way too long. "I'm fine. I'm not hungry. Plus I don't think you'd like me puking all over your expensive shoes after the first punch." 

"I don't want you fainting either." Peter starts taking his shoes off. "Here, you don't have to worry about ruining anything." He starts taking off his shirt next. 

Jesus Christ, why does this man have to always strip in front of him. Music starts playing in Stiles' head and he's so close to throwing money at Peter. Thank God he doesn't have any on him, or he might have.

"I'm not eating either way. Like I said, I'm not hungry." He swallows hard as Peter's hands move to his belt. The werewolf doesn't break eye contact for one moment. 

"Are you sure?" Peter grins at him, pulling his hands away from his belt and Stiles sighs in relief. Peter's eyes divert from Stiles to the book forgotten on the couch.

"Good read?" He asks circling around Stiles' and looking at the screen of his laptop. 

"Impossible." Stiles scoffs. "And useless. I thought you were supposed to teach me how to fight, not make me read Japanese folktales before bed." 

"How much did you read?"

Stiles squints his eyes trying to remember. "Just like one story." 

"Which one?"

"Umm..." He's trying to remember again. " Peach boy. You had it marked so I thought I'd start with it."

Peter smirks. "Momotarō. What did you think of it?" 

Stiles frowns and starts biting his lip, wondering what Peter is expecting him to say. "It's good. I mean, it's a kids story." 

Peter shakes his head. So that wasn't what he wanted him to say. "Come on." He gestures Stiles to join him to the middle of the room. "We're here to teach you how to fight, aren't we?"

Stiles reluctantly walks towards Peter. Peter extends one hand, palm facing up, inviting Stiles to grab it. As soon as their hands touch, Peter squeezes it and drags him forward, forcing Stiles to bump into his chest. Stiles' breath hitches. 

"Why do you want to know how to fight, Stiles?" Peter says in a low voice. 

"Why do you think?" Stiles whispers, the words coming out with enough annoyance for it to sound defensive. What kind of question even is that? Because he's a fucking helpless human who always has to hide behind the big bad wolves and ask for mercy. That's all he always does. He begs for mercy and he gets in the way of the people who can actually protect this town. 

"I know why, Stiles. I need you to say it." Peter answers calmly. 

"I don't want to feel useless." Stiles doesn't sound apologetical or whinny. He sounds determined and he's pretty proud of it. 

"Wrong, darling." Stiles frowns at that. "Is that so? Then tell me, what do I want to gain from this?" Stiles whispers, getting closer to Peter's face as he speaks, challengingly. 

Peter responds with a smirk. "You want to fight back. You want to be able to act on your own, to be able to stand your ground without having to depend on anyone else's strengths or morals. You hate being underestimated so you want to show them - not yourself, them - that you are not helpless. You just don't know it yet." 

Stiles' confusion must be obvious on his face because Peter starts laughing and pulling away from him, walking towards the book. He picks it up and starts moving it in the air to direct the attention towards it. "I tell you what, sweetheart. I show you some moves and in the meantime, you tell me what Momotarō is about." 

"A book review while you kick my ass? Yeah, sounds like fun", Stiles jokes. 

Peter looks at him expectantly with his eyebrows raised and hands behind his back, leaving his pecks in full view, an image Stiles will never get out of his head unless he throws his whole brain away. He sighs and starts telling the story as well as he can. 

"It's about a couple who find one day a peach, floating down a river. They take it home and find a boy inside it, who they name Momotarō."  
Peter walks behind Stiles, placing his hands on his arms and placing them in front of him. Stiles clenches his fists on instinct in front of his face and Peter makes a pleased sound. He's doing something right and he's pleasing his teacher. Stiles feels a unfamiliar warmth in his chest. 

He continues: "When he grows up, he goes on a quest to find and fight the Oni who have been threatening his town." Peter's bare chest feels warm against his back and he can feel him inhaling and exhaling, slow and steady. 

Peter grabs his right fist with his hand and starts punching the air slowly. Stiles' hand feels small under the werewolf's fingers and his skin starts tingling wherever Peter is touching him: his hand, his back, the back of his neck where Peter is currently resting his forehead. 

He pulls away and a small whiny sound escapes Stiles. Hopefully Peter hadn't paid it any attention. He continues to do the movement with his hands, while Peter drops himself to the floor and Stiles' vision gets blurry and his breath hitches.

He feels hands on his tighs, lifting his legs one at a time and placing them into a different position. Peter stands back up. "Fighting stance. Looks ridiculous in a bar fight seeing that most of those assholes just start punching left and right, but in any fight, control is key." He stands next to Stiles and mirrors the position. "Your fist has to be tight and your wrist locked in place. A flexible wrist will bend in a way you don't want it to bend. And don't ever hold your thumb inside your fist or you'll break it." He throws a few punches into the air as he speaks. "Don't hold back and be ready for impact. It's going to hurt you, but will hurt them a lot more." 

Stiles tries to do the same thing Peter is doing, but his hands fall to his sides in exasperation. "My noodle arms look ridiculous when I do that." He points to Peter's arms. "I don't have bionic, Winter soldier arms like you." 

Peter comes closer and squeezes Stiles shoulders. "You're holding back. You don't know your own strength, darling. You're weak only if you believe you are. Resume the story... and the punching." 

Now Peter is just standing there, arms crossed, watching Stiles. 

"He meets on his way a...um...monkey, a dog and a pheasant. They agree to help him if he shares his dumplings with them." Stiles laughs. 

His arms start hurting, his legs are shanking from rocking back and forth and he just wants to be done already. "Long story short, they get to the Oni island, they beat up the demons, they get all the goodies they can find and bring them back home to mom and dad. The end."

Stiles stops moving, letting his arms fall to his sides. Peter hums in agreement and looks thoughtfully to the floor. 

Stiles feels like he's been struck by lightning because of the force of the sudden attack that leaves him writhing on the ground under Peter's weight in mere seconds. 

Peter leans down, hand wrapping around his throat and pushing slowly down, forcing Stiles to stop moving. "You let your guard down. I didn't tell you to stop." Stiles exhales and looks into Peter's eyes who seems to analyze him. 

"You may not have noticed because you were so caught up in the story, but your form has gotten a lot better by the time you stopped." 

Stiles' eyes widen in understanding. "You distracted me. That's why you made me read the damn book?"

"No. I made you read it because you have a few things to learn about yourself. I made you tell me the story because you were thinking too much and also because you seem to have missed the point when you read it." 

Peter's hand is still around his throat, but it's not pressing down anymore. He's just holding it there. 

"Momotarō is not a Hercules fighting creatures weaker and more meaningless than him. He is a boy who wants to fight for those he loves even if his rival is far more powerful than he is. So he makes friends and he wins the fight through sheer intelligence and the talents of him and his new-found allies." 

Stiles is starting to process everything he's read and he gets it. "I'm Momotarō..." 

"Yes, you are, peach boy." Peter grins. 

Stiles is starting to feel hot and is now just realizing how Peter is straddling him. His legs have gone numb and his chest is raising quickly. He squeezes his eyes and he remembers. Oh no, oh no, oh no.  
He starts twisting and moving again. He can't stay like this. He can already feel his dick getting hard and soon enough, Peter might feel it to. 

Stiles begins to push at Peter's hand for him to let go and he wiggles his way out from under Peter's weight. He jumps to his feet and gathers his stuff, only sparing Peter one quick glance. In a few seconds his out the door, shouting something along the lines of "See you tomorrow", leaving a confused Peter still on his knees, hands resting on his thighs and head slightly tilted to the side. 

He's not even sure he will be seeing him tomorrow, not after how close he was today to make a fool of himself. His eyes start to sting and as soon as he closes the door of the Jeep tears start rolling down his cheeks. Fuck damn it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this.  
> I was not expecting to write more than one chapter. This was only something my mind came up with as I was trying to fall asleep, so feel free to let me know if there's something you'd like to see me focus more on. :)


	3. Hold me while I cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to stop running from his demons, he has to face them and let them make him stronger. Just like he is facing another demon right now. She's different though, an angel that holds him under the warmth of her wings, a shoulder to cry on.

Allison is coming back from France today. Her father sent her there after she almost got stabbed to death by the Oni and to be honest, no one is blaming him for trying to protect her. Not even Allison, as stubborn as she can be sometimes, she just accepted it and went without too much fuss.

I'd Stiles wasn't feeling shitty enough today, he had to look into her eyes too at some point. He could just have avoided meeting her, at least for a few days, but Allison's made it pretty obvious that she won't let him run away from his demons. She's now standing right at his door so there goes running.

He doesn't know what to say so he says nothing, only moving his hand on the wood of the door, looking at his feet. She clears her throat so he looks up at her through his lashes. 

Her small smile and raised eyebrows send him over the edge. How can she stand there with her kind eyes and reassuring smile? He can't contain his tears anymore and she steps inside, wrapping her hands around him.

He stops sobbing and he's not even sure why. They didn't get to talk before she left. Her hug feels like she's trying to fix what the nogitsune managed to break inside him. It's not enough, but it helps. 

"It's okay." She whispers, voice shaky as she tries to stop herself from crying too. "You're okay. We're okay, Stiles." 

He stays in her arms for a few more minutes and then he straightens up to look at her. Her eyes are red, but she gives him the same warm smile. 

"I'm sorry, Allison. I am so sorry." She frowns. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It was not your fault. I am fine and I know you'd never hurt me or anyone for that matter." 

He looks down, trying not to meet her eyes. She wipes a tear off his cheek with her thumb and he looks back into her eyes. "You wouldn't hurt anyone you care about, Stiles. And I'd like to think you care about me." She raises her hand and closes the gap between her thumb and finger. "Even a little bit." They both laugh. 

"Of course I do." She smiles again, wider this time and Stiles can't help but smile too.

"So, come on, tell me what you've been up too. I want all the updates." She grabs his hands excited and drags him toward the couch, closing the front door with her foot.

"Me? You're the one who spent 4 months in France, mademoiselle." She laughs and drops her head back. 

"I didn't do much there. Just the usual, training and reading and all the things any good hunter's daughter does." 

"Well...now that you brought it up..." He pauses, biting at his lip, watching Allison waiting excitedly. "I kinda started training too." 

She lifts herself off the couch enough to pull her legs underneath her and sit closer to him like he's about to tell her a secret. "What?" Her smile is telling him she's more excited than surprised so he continues. 

"Yeah, well I've only started yesterday, but I don't know..." He looks away, finding a stain on the carpet and he keeps his eyes locked on it. 

"You don't know what?" She tilts her head to the side and frowns in confusion. 

"I don't know if I'm really cut for that kind of stuff. I mean, I'd like to know how to fight, but... it's not for me. Just look at these things." He moves his arms around in wavy motions and Allison starts laughing again. 

"What are you talking about?" She laughs harder at the way Stiles keeps moving his uncoordinated arms. "Stiles, are you kidding me? Look at me." He looks at her searching for whatever she means. 

"I'm all skin and bones, Stiles. Yet I can still hold my own in a fight." He nods in understanding. "You can do it too, trust me. You just need some practice." 

"I trip over air, Ally." She laughs again, shaking from laughter and she pushes her fingers playfully against his forehead. "Dumbass." 

He doesn't know why, but he feels all of a sudden the urge to tell Allison everything, everything that's eating at him right now. 

"There's also something...else...that might stop me from continuing the training." She places a hand over his, pleading eyes asking him to tell her more. She doesn't ask however, she doesn't pressure him. 

"Whatever it is, it shouldn't stop you from reaching your goal Stiles. If this is important to you, nothing and nobody has the right to stand in your way. So get your mind off whatever is stopping you and enjoy it." They hug again and it feels nice. It feels warm and comfortable and he'd just love to fall asleep right now. 

But he can't. Cause his mind is still miles away. Peter is on his mind. Peter's eyes. Peter's warmth. Peter's smile. Peter. 

Maybe he doesn't even have a choice after all. He has to go on with the training. He needs to know how to fight. He could always ask Chris. Probably not Allison, cause she's not ready to fight against an untrained rival that could hurt her because he doesn't know what he is doing. 

But he can't. It has to be Peter. He has to stop running from his demons, he has to face them and let them make him stronger. Just like he is facing another demon right now. She's different though, an angel that holds him under the warmth of her wings, a shoulder to cry on.

He misses Peter already, he misses his touch, his voice, his skin. It has to be Peter.


	4. Confessions of a virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What did you...?" She doesn't finish the question, but Stiles understands and he lifts his index and middle fingers. He winces and he looks down at his other hand. He adds his ring finger and the girls gasp once more. Malia shouts "Three!?" Everyone starts making shushing noises at her then they all start laughing again.

Stiles doesn't get to break his word even if he wants to. He got a text from Scott this morning about a pack meeting that would take place later so he has to face Peter sooner than he would've liked. 

But he said he'd face his demons, right? He needs to stop being such a coward. He wants to learn how to fight for himself, for fuck's sake, he can't run when faced with the first challenge. 

So, dragging his feet and pouting, he finally gets to the loft where everyone seems to have already arrived. 

Erica strolls towards him, arms pulling him in an embrace. "To what to we owe the honor, princess? We did not expect you to delight us with your presence today." 

They have been getting quite close lately, him and Erica, texting every time Stiles can't sleep or talking and looking at the stars all night, laying on top of the roof of his house when his dad isn't home. She's pretty sweet when people don't try to get on her nerves or vice versa. 

Allison is the next person to approach him. The room goes silent. 

Scott clears his throat and opens his mouth a few times before deciding on what to say. "This is why I wanted you here today, Stiles. Allison, she's...well, she's back." 

Stiles and Allison look at each other and they both break into laughter at the same time. "No shit, Scott, I haven't noticed." 

Allison pulls him into a hug too, clinging to his neck and he can feel all eyes on them. Allison steps back putting one arm around his waist, so he slides his over her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. 

"We saw each other yesterday." She looks around the room and starts laughing. "We're good, don't worry. Stop looking at us like we're about to explode." 

Stiles gives a quick glance around the room. He's not looking for anything - or anyone - in particular, he just needs to check if...well, if Peter is there. Yeah, of course he is, so sue him. 

He sees the older werewolf leaning against the wall farthest from where Stiles is standing, close to the entrance. He's looking out the window, arms crossed, expressionless.

Stiles almost wishes he would be looking at him. And he really wishes he didn't stare for this long at Peter so he wouldn't have to look at Allison who's been following his gaze and is now throwing him a confused look. 

"So, does this meeting have a pack bonding kind of purpose? Cause I'd love me some pizza right now." Everyone starts cheering, even Allison, and Stiles sighs in relief. Good distraction for now. 

He tries to steal a few more glances in Peter's direction, who's now sitting in one of the armchairs, legs spread wide (God damn it, Peter) and book in hand. Stiles knows, however, that he's listening to all the conversations in the room. 

"So, Ally", Lydia starts, "how're the boys in the beautiful France?" She wiggles her eyebrows and Erica mirrors her wide grin. 

Scott's whips his head around and blushes at the new attention and snickers from the girls who go back to looking at Allison , waiting impatiently. No wonder Scott and Kira didn't work out, Stiles thinks. He's clearly still hung up on Allison. 

"Well, you know...just boys." Allison shruggs. 

"Just boys??" Lydia sounds almost offended. 

"Yeah, I mean, you know. Just boys...men too...with dreamy accents, gorgeous eyes, beautiful hair and refined taste in wine and cheese." She laughs at the way the girls' eyes widen along with their smiles. Malia and Kira join them as on queue. 

"Mm, I like what I hear." Malia's eyes flash an electric blue and she licks her lips. Stiles can't help but laugh. 

Malia sits closer to Stiles, bumping her shoulder into his. "What are you laughing about? You can't tell me you wouldn't want one of those European men to make you call them "daddy" in their own language." 

Stiles blushes hard and he thinks he might have started sweating too. He looks around to see if anyone else heard that and meets Peter's eyes, who's let the book rest on his lap. He's expression is unreadable, but Stiles thinks there might be a glint in his eyes, a curiosity.

He looks back at the girls and Allison has again followed his gaze. She turns around, still a bit confused, but the corners of her mouth twitch in a small grin. Oh fuck, she's figuring it out. 

"I uh- I don't...I wouldn't." His face must be so red right now and lying to a bunch of supernatural creatures with super hearing might be the dumbest thing he could do. 

"Yeah, right." Kira rolls her eyes. "You said you'd lick the hell out of Jude Law and that his "accent" must be at least 10 inch long." They all start laughing, wiping their tears from the corner of their eyes and rolling on the floor. 

Malia tries to speak through her cackling. "I forgot about that! He was so drunk he started grinding on the Christmas three! Best Christmas ever." They break into another fit of laugher. 

"Oh my God, guys, stop! I told you to stop listening to drunk Stiles! He says all kinds of crazy stuff." He tries to sound mad, but he has to bite back a smile. He notices Peter has gone back to reading, but his eyes aren't focusing on the words in front of him. His invisible dog ears are perked up and listening. Stiles smiles to himself. 

"Talking of which, Stiles..." Allison looks intently at him and he can see she's got something on her mind. By the mischievous grin she has on her face, he knows he has to brace himself for what comes next. 

"We all know about your long lasting obsession with Lydia..." Stiles looks at Lydia, feeling the need to reassure her. "Which is over now." She smiles and nods. 

Allison continues. "And that you and Malia were together for a while and that you too, well..." 

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "Had sex." Malia fills in the gaps matter-of-factly. Stiles closes his eyes, sighing with a smile. "Is there a point to this?"

"I thought you knew where I was going with this." Allison elbows him in the side playfully. Everyone looks as confused as him until Kira's eyes widen and her mouth opens impossibly wide too. 

"Oh my God! You're not a virgin, but are you a virgin???" Stiles is even more confused until he isn't anymore and he just throws himself from a sitting position on his back, covering his face with his arms. 

"OH my God! You didn't just ask me THAT!" The girls start giggling and begging for him to answer. 

He looks around the room. The rest of the guys are arguing in the corner about who'd win in a fight in different stupid scenarios. In the opposite corner, Peter is drinking his tea, head slightly tilted back, exposing his sharp jaw and thick neck. How fucking elegant of him, may he choke on it. 

Stiles takes a deep breath before responding in a quick exhale. "Yes." The girls loose their minds over that, looking so excited like he'd just announced his wedding. 

The giggling stops when a loud clatter followed by a coughing fit startle them. Peter has dropped his tea cup and is desperately trying to catch his breath. Derek walks over rolling his eyes and he pats him on the back forcefully. "Jesus, uncle, if I'd known it would be this easy..." 

"I'm fine. I just... swallowed the wrong way." 

"Well you look like you just got kicked in the nuts." Isaac chimes in. 

"That's one way to put it..." Peter mutters. 

The satisfaction Stiles feels right now can only be challenged by the smirk on Allison's lips and the wink she sends his way. Are they playing the same game? 

Malia doesn't give much attention to what has happened. She's bringing back her curious gaze and devilish smile. Her eyes remain on Stiles as she speaks to Allison. 

"How do you say "daddy" in French, Allison?" Stiles blushes even more under the intensity of her gaze. 

Allison laughs and bites her lip, speaking in a soft, provocative and obviously mocking voice. "Papa."

"Well papa is going to have a pleasant surprise when he's gonna get between these legs." She points to Stiles with a nod. Another fit of laughter fills the room. 

"Maliaaaa!..."

"Awww, so are you the only virgin here?" Lydia says in a cute, childish voice. 

"Am not!" says Stiles defensively, crossing his arms with a pout. "Me and Malia..."

"Oh no, honey, that doesn't count." Lydia starts explaining, shaking her head in a patronizing way. "That barely changes anything. I don't have your point of view, but I have mine and trust me when I say: I bet it's so much better." She grins and Stiles' face starts heating up. 

Kira shifts awkwardly and she leans over to whisper shyly. "Have you- have you ever tried anything?" 

Stiles' breath hitches an he covers his face, thinking. He knows the answer, he doesn't have to think about that. He's not sure if he should lie or not. What will they think? 

He decides. He ducks his head to make it harder for prying eyes to see him and he nods. He hears the girls gasping. Lydia looks like she wants to know more however. 

"What did you...?" She doesn't finish the question, but Stiles understands and he lifts his index and middle fingers. He winces and he looks down at his other hand. He adds his ring finger and the girls gasp once more. Malia shouts "Three!?" Everyone starts making shushing noises at her then they all start laughing again. 

"We've got a curious one, girls", says Allison winking at him. 

Lydia leans back, keeping herself up with one arm behind her back. She flips her long hair back with her other hand. "You know what they say, honey: Curiosity killed the cat," she smirks, " satisfaction brought it back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am i stretching this out too much??
> 
> (Hah, that's what she said)


	5. Demonstrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well why, Mr Lahey, you don't think Mr Stilinski can't get me on my knees?" Peter smirks and Stiles' jaw drops slightly. "With a little more work and few more punches, but who knows, you might feel threatened by the end of this." Isaac scoffs.

Stiles yawns, stretching his back before heading to the kitchen. The Argents' couch was not made for tall lanky teenagers with back problems to sleep on but hey, who is he to complain about the pillow he was so kindly allowed to rest his head on? 

By the reaction he gets from Mr Argent when he walks in he can tell, however, that Allison forgot to tell her father about their sleepover last night. He shoots his hands in the air, dropping the milk on his borrowed slippers. "Whoa, it's me! It's Stiles, totally invited and not broken in!"

"Jesus Christ, Stiles!" Chris mutters under his breath. "I could've shot you." He raises one brow, looking up and down at Stiles, noticing that he's wearing pyjamas. "And I still could. What are you doing here this early in the morning? Did you sleep here?" 

Stiles starts walking backwards, putting his hands up in defense when his back hits the cold metal door of the fridge. Chris stops in front of him, eyebrow still raised. 

"It's not what it looks like, I swear! My dad was at the station last night and Allison wouldn't let me go home alone and-" he's rambling and moving his hands around. Chris just stares at him, smiling. "I slept on the couch, I swear, we didn't-" 

Chris pats Stiles on the shoulder, but he stops laughing when the boy flinches. "Relax, Stiles, I believe you." 

"Dad, we're friends. Don't break him." Allison slides her fingers through her bangs in an attempt to make them stay out of her face. 

She walks to the fridge, picking up on her way the carton of milk that Stiles had dropped. "Anyone hungry? I'm making pancakes." 

"I'm starving. Last night was wild. I didn't get much time to eat your sandwiches, honey, I'm sorry." Chris puts on his best guilty face.

"Well don't let that happen again. You've been living alone for far too long, you've gotten shinny, dad. How are you gonna show up to fights looking like a skeleton with a gun? Not very imposing if you ask me", Allison mocks. Her father shrugs at her. 

"Yeah, okay, fine. I'm gonna take a shower. Save me some of those pancakes." 

"Sooo..." Allison starts, wiggling her eyebrows. "What was all that yesterday?" 

"What was all what?" Stiles grabs the glass of milk Allison hands him. 

"What do you mean what? All the looks and the smiles and the subtle hints." 

"First of all, I don't know what you're talking about. Secondly," he sips from his glass "the hints were all you." 

"Oh so you do know what I'm talking about." 

Stiles shrugs in a "I dunno" way and he watches as Allison breaks a few eggs and starts mixing them together. 

"You need me to spell it for you?! Peter, Stiles! What was with the heart eyes you kept looking at him with? And he wasn't very subtle either." 

He whipped his head up to look at her and Allison laughs at his excitement. "Yeah, you heard me. I noticed that he was giving you literal heart eyes the whole time. Well, that and the lustful glint in his eyes, especially when we got to the spicy part of our conversation." She winks at him and Stiles can feel his face heating up. 

Chris comes out of the shower in his pyjama pants, drying his hair in a towel. Stiles whips his head around and he's definitely blushing this time. The man is shirtless and he could definitely shame most guys Stiles' age with those abs. 

"I forgot to ask you, Ally, are you coming tonight?" 

"I'm definitely coming. I could use a good laugh." 

"What's tonight?" Stiles asks still not looking at Chris. 

"We're training again, you forgot?" 

"Oh yeah, that. Have fun I guess. And don't kill them, however annoying they might get." 

"What? No no, you're coming." Allison almost throws the pancake at his face instead of putting it on his plate. "You said it yourself, you want to fight. Maybe dad can help you." 

"Of course. But it would have to be a different kind of training. I mean, I don't think it's advisable to fight along with or against the young were's this early on. Maybe Peter could help you though. As much as I hate the asshole, he's a pretty good fighter." 

"Yeah, cause that worked out so well the first time..." Stiles mutters under his breath but Allison picks up on it. 

"Oh my God! He's your teacher from hell? Stiles, sweetie, why didn't you tell me?" 

"I didn't think it mattered. Plus, you didn't have all the information before." 

Chris sits down at the kitchen table in front of one of the plates. "Why didn't it work the first time?" 

"It's...a long story," Stiles shrugs playing with a fork on his plate. 

Chris puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder and he smiles reassuringly. "Look, I know he can be a bit...difficult sometimes, but just try not to fall for his mind games and you'll be fine. That might even be a good thing. I know he can teach you how to fight off anyone 10 times bigger than you, but he might also help you build up your mental strength." 

"Yeah, why don't you give it another try. You know, get buff and get something else too..." Allison wiggles her eyebrows and they both get a confused look from Chris. 

"Jesus Christ, Ally..." Stiles laughs along with her and then they all eat their pancakes in silence. 

"I see everyone is here, willingly I hope." Chris walks in the loft setting down his bag and turning to face everyone. "Where the hell is Peter?" Oh, he sounds mad. Everyone is in big trouble if Peter doesn't show up, because they will have to deal with a pissed off Argent who has to deal with them on his own. 

"I'm here, Chris darling, you can wipe away the tears now. No need to miss me anymore." Peter walks down the stairs, grinning at the blank face of Chris Argent. 

"You do like to make an entrance, don't you Hale?" Chris doesn't look impressed. He doesn't look like anything really, expressionless as always. 

Stiles goes straight for the couch, trying to make himself look as small as possible. He doesn't want anyone to get any ideas and make him get involved. 

The young wolves all start the training, going quickly through the basics and one hour in they've jumped to the bloody part. They're now all laying on the floor exhausted and whining about the healing process going too slow. Stiles rolls his eyes every time they mention it. They should be thankful that at least they heal. Stiles doesn't seem to be the only one who thinks that way.

"Quit bitching so much and get to your feet", Peter says walking in the center of the room, raising his arms in a T pose. "I'm tired too you know, and maybe not as powerful as you. If you'd stop whining now, maybe you'd be able to actually take me down for once." He keeps his pose looking around as no one makes a move, only heavy breathing filling the room.

"Anyone? No?" Peter turns on his heels and smirks. "Stiles?" 

Stiles' eyes go wide and he looks at everyone turning to look at him, just as shocked as he is. Everyone but Chris and Allison who seem intrigued and maybe a little excited on Allison's part. 

"Wh- what? M- me?" Stiles blinks as he lets go of his knees, which he's been holding close to his chest the whole time, and he moves uncomfortably on the couch. 

"Is there any other Stiles here? Come on, you're the only one who's not tried yet. It's only fair if you give it a go too." 

Chris chimes in. "Fair point. Come on Stiles, give it a try." He smiles reassuringly and Stiles takes in a deep breath, walking towards Peter.

Peter looks so smug, he just wants to wipe that fucking smile off his face but he's too scared to move. He can't do this. Especially not in front of anyone. He's thinking too much again. Oh no, he's probably gonna have a panic attack soon. Oh God, oh God...

Peter moves closer to whisper in his ear. "You'll be fine. You can do this." He smells so good that Stiles finds himself closing his eyes and inhaling the heady aroma. 

"You're kidding, right?" Issac laughs holding his side where Stiles might have heard on of his ribs break. 

"Well why, Mr Lahey, you don't think Mr Stilinski can get me on my knees?" Peter smirks and Stiles' jaw drops slightly. "With a little more work and few more punches, but who knows, you might feel threatened by the end of this." Isaac scoffs. 

"I might have to agree with Isaac on this one. I don't think this is a good idea." Stiles tries to back away slowly, unsure if he should be running instead. 

Peter drops his head and starts shaking it. "Don't let me down now, sweetheart. I was really putting my faith in you." Stiles stops walking backwards but he doesn't move towards Peter. "You didn't teach me much the last time so excuse me if I feel a little unprepared." So that's out now. 

Peter continues. "True. But only because someone has already taught you how to run pretty efficiently. So what now, sweetheart? Are you running away again? You seem to be very good at it." 

Stiles frowns, clenching his fists. He knows Peter is trying to get a rise out of him but he can't help feeling angry. Of course he feels angry. Everyone already thinks he's weak and probably a coward. And Peter has the nerve to accuse him of running away when he is the reason. No, fuck him! If he wants Stiles angry, then he's got it! 

He walks towards Peter and he raises his fists up to his face. Just like Peter taught him. He thinks he sees the faintest sign of a smile before Peter's face goes serious and a little bit scary from where Stiles is standing. 

Peter motions Stiles to start and Stiles throws the first punch, which as expected doesn't land. He can hear people snickering around him and he grows more and more embarrassed. Peter dodges every punch. 

Stiles scoffs and he turns on his heels, ready to leave this time. The pack is laughing around him. He feels overwhelmed by all the emotions he's feeling right now. He's embarrassed and angry and frustrated and disappointed and all the bad feelings in the world. 

"This again? You're just going to run again? I really thought you were better than that, but I guess I was wrong", Peter talks behind him. 

He feels as if his last button has been pushed and he walks back in front of Peter before raising his fist. This time, it connects with Peter's jaw who stumbles back. The room goes quiet. 

"You are wrong, you asshole! Cause you don't know me! You don't know shit about me! I don't run!" He keeps trying to hit Peter again and the werewolf starts to struggle to dodge his hits. 

"I. Am. Not. A. Coward! I am not weak!" He turns towards everyone else in the room, panting. He thinks he might have pulled a muscle but he doesn't care right now. "Stop acting like I can't handle anything. I am not the only human here, yet I am the only one treated like an inconvenience because I can't fight. Well fuck you, cause I will!" 

He grabs his phone where he left it on the couch and he starts walking towards the door. 

He can almost hear Peter's smug grin in his voice as he shouts behind him. "Tomorrow at 8?" 

Stiles doesn't even turn around. "It's a date." Oof, poor choice of words. Must be the adrenaline speaking. He closes the door before running down the stairs so the pack can't hear his heart pounding out of his chest. Why make promises you don't know if you can keep, Stiles?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise next chapter we start for real. I've been neglecting the Peter/Stiles dynamics for way too long. Time to get some real action.


	6. Under the July Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles lets go of his arms and he waits for Peter to do what Peter wants. The man wraps and arm around his waist and he flips them so Stiles is lying on the grass and he makes room for Peter by spreading his legs. It's comfortable.

He gets a text from Peter next morning telling him to meet him in the preserve. 

"Maybe he's mad about yesterday and he wants to chop me into little pieces and scatter them around the preserve." Stiles jokes to himself as he puts on his sneakers. 

He's gonna text his dad about his whereabouts anyway, just in case he doesn't make it home for dinner...or his dad's birthday next month. 

He checks the location Peter sent him again and he looks around. No Peter. "Where the hell are you, asshole?" He yells to no one in particular. "Stupid..." he mutters to himself. He turns on his heels to head back to his car but a crack behind him makes him stop in his tracks. 

He turns around, squinting and trying to find the source of the sound. Another branch cracks behind him, closer this time and he freezes. He finally builds up the courage to turn around only to be met about more silence and a whole bunch of nothing.  
He sighs in relief, but before he can take another step, he feels a hand wrap around his neck, pulling him against a body and set of claws rest under his chin. 

"Good morning, dear!" Peter almost purrs in his ear. 

The tension in Stiles's body leaves. He frowns, but he's not scared. He knows Peter wouldn't hurt him and the warmth actually feels pretty good in the cold morning air.

"What am I to you, prey?" Stiles says with an unimpressed tone. 

"Prey has survival instincts that tell it to run. Unlike you, baby, it doesn't wait to be snatched." The nickname makes Stiles' eyes flutter shut but he snaps out of it quickly and he starts pushing at Peter who releases him. 

"How about I leave today with some actual new skills, huh?" Stiles starts following Peter into a clearing not far from there. 

"Sure, is there anything else on your schedule today that might make you run off in the middle of our training?" Peter grins. 

"Will you ever let that go?" Stiles scoffs. "Don't worry, you have my full attention." 

Peter stop walking and he turns around all of a sudden. Stiles almost bumps into his chest. "I can believe that." Peter sends him another one of those smirks full of meaning that Stiles hates and loves at the same time.

Stiles furrows his brows. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

Peter waves his hand around. "Whatever answer you can think of that annoys you the most, that's probably it." 

Stiles rolls his eyes and he starts taking in his surroundings. He was right. The place is a serial killer's perfect playground and if Peter decided to play, no one would hear Stiles scream for help. 

Today's lesson is way more intense. Two hours in and Stiles's body is aching but he doesn't want to let his guard down. Peter looks like he could go for a few more rounds though and there is no way Stiles can win any fight today if he doesn't change his strategy.

"Do you want to stop now?" Peter circles him and stops in front of him staring at him like he's trying to understand what he's thinking. "I think that's quite enough for today. We don't want you fainting or-" 

He doesn't get to finish because he has to catch Stiles before he collapses on the ground. "Stiles?" Stiles' eyes roll to the back of his head as Peter holds his limp body. 

"Stiles, wake up! Jesus, Stiles..." Peter leans slightly closer to Stiles' chest in order to listen to his heartbeat. He suddenly feels fingers lacing tightly around the back of his neck and a leg curling behind his legs before he is pushed to the ground. 

He is quickly turned over and held down on the ground by the weight of Stiles wrapped around his lower body, his arms held on each side of his head. 

Stiles takes in the sight of a bewildered Peter under him, helpless under the influence of his shock and he feels his chest filled with pride. "Looks like prey found his survival instincts. "He almost purrs with excitement. 

When he comes back from his state of shock, Peter drops his head back on the ground, closing his eyes and exposing his neck as he starts laughing, his chest moving with every chuckle under Stiles' own. 

"Prey? Unsurprisingly, I was right, darling, people do tend to underestimate you." He stops laughing and his smile turns into a grin. He doesn't try to escape however, he just moves his face closer to Stiles'.   
"With a face like that..." He bucks his hips a little forward, like he doesn't even realize it, but just enough to make Stiles gasp. Peter continues. "They can't see the predator inside the prey." 

Stiles' confidence starts to quickly fade as he looks at the glint in Peter's eyes. Whatever the werewolf might see in him, the wolf in Peter is clearly not trying to hide and Stiles is pretty sure it likes to play with its food. 

Stiles lets go of his arms and he waits for Peter to do what Peter wants. The man wraps and arm around his waist and he flips them so Stiles is lying on the grass and he makes room for Peter by spreading his legs. It's comfortable. 

The silence is comfortable too. They just study each other's faces with heavy lidded eyes and Stiles can feel Peter's warm breath ghosting over his lips. 

The sun finally reaches his skin from between the branches of the trees towering over them. He tries to keep his eyes on Peter but the light is too bright and he feels tired.

Peter is warm and the strong arms around him make Stiles feel safe and wanted. He just can't stop himself so he wraps his fingers in the werewolf's hair. Peter smiles and he leans closer. 

Their lips meet in a soft kiss and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. He can't get enough of it so when he feels Peter lick at his bottom lip, he parts his lips. Tongues crash and the kiss becomes sloppier and more desperate but they find a slower rhythm that just makes Stiles gasp from the intensity. 

He feels like he's being set free from everything for a moment and he doesn't want it to stop. But it has to because the burning in his chest becomes unbearable. 

Peter drops his head into the crook of Stiles's neck. Stiles keeps his fingers in Peter's hair. They stay like that, interlaced under the sun of early July, in the depths of the forrest, where no one can see them, how Stiles would never think he could fall asleep. 

Yet he does. All the sleepless nights and the physical exhaustion finally got to him so he doesn't remember getting in Peter's car. He must've carried him there. 

He tries to look out the window but his eyelids feel too heavy. He falls back asleep, but not before he feels a hand gently caressing his face. 

He wakes up at home, in his bed. He checks his phone for anything from his dad. It's 5:37 pm. He hasn't slept this much in a very long time. 

His fingers ghost over his left cheek. He doesn't want to touch it. He thinks he might still feel Peter's touch there. And the kiss...he smiles.

But the butterflies in his stomach soon die as anxiety starts to settle in. He checks his phone again. 

Nothing from Peter, no call, no text...no Peter next to him. His hands start shaking and a lump starts forming in his throat. What if Peter regretted it? 

No, he got Stiles home and let him rest. It hasn't been that long anyway. Plus, he kissed Stiles. Why would he regret it?

Why wouldn't he?...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember most of my own plot since I last wrote so I'm sorry for anything that doesn't make sense. I would actually really appreciate it if you'd let me know if I'm not making much sense at some point. 
> 
> Also I don't know if I had mentioned it or not, but it's summer time, that's why they keep meeting so early and Stiles doesn't have school. I suck at keeping track of a time-line too. Thanks for the understanding:)


End file.
